The Rise of Syn Anderson
by Arrianos
Summary: Post-KotOR & Kotor II. Syn Anderson, a young whippersnapper from a prominent family, begins on an amazing journey to planets and power he had never dreamt of...
1. A Master's Fate

**The Rise of Syn Anderson**

_**Chapter I: A Master's Fate**_

_Panting, Syn Anderson overlooked the damage he had caused. Bodies, some without limbs, others with gaping, cauterized wounds, were everywhere in the Committee Hall. Blood, still fresh, was coming down the marble halls in small rivers. Several Committee seats had been smashed and broken. Every now and then, a gurgling noise was heard from one of the Committee members. They had come, finally. The groveling politicians had finally found the courage to attack him openly. They had become lowly assassins. Syn grinned humorlessly. It was time._

_Out of nothing, it seemed, he arrived._

"_You know why I am here, Syn."_

_Syn about-faced instantly, and was surprised to see him there. A rival. A cousin. A rival's protégé. He had never thought _he _would have come to try to mark the end of his reign. Of his era. Patrian Horilles._

"_You too, Patrian? No matter. You shall fall, like all the other fools here," Syn hissed._

"_I cannot let you continue like this, Syn," Patrian replied calmly. "You have caused far too much suffering for people everywhere. I will see you dead for your conquests, your burning of worlds, the murder of my Master."_

_Syn chuckled. "Suffering? Conquests? I have brought peace, stability and order. I have replaced chaos with obedience, war with harmony. My people are mine, and neither you nor any Jedi puppet will take that away from me. You intend to stop me? I, who has cheated death, who will live forever. I, who has brought the galaxy to heel and has brought unstoppable domination? No, dear Patrian, you, not I, will fall here today."_

_Sorrow spread across Patrian's face. Ever so slightly, Syn was taken aback. "You mean – no, this can't be true, can it? You really thought I could be brought back? Back to the light? Look around you, Patrian. What can you possibly offer _me_?" Patrian didn't say a word._

"_So be it. Do you know, Patrian, that your power could have been truly great if I had taught you, instead of Tyrric? You had much talent. Your natural affinity to the Force was amazing. But it is too late now. We all make our choices, Patrian. In the end, I am a god. In the end, you are nothing."_

_Almost immediately, Syn was at Patrian's side, lightsaber ignited in his left hand, a tool of so much terror over the last decade or so. Curved hilt, intense red beam. A master's weapon. Patrian ignited his own purple lightsaber just in time to block Syn's first wave of attacks. He parried as best as he could, but he knew what was coming. Despite his age, Syn was still the greatest lord of the lightsaber the galaxy had seen in many centuries. He had introduced a magisterial new form, combining the best of existing techniques, in the Archides style, a truly magnificent innovation of which only he, and his apprentice, had knowledge. Patrian had trained intensively preparing for this battle, but the lightning fast movements, fuelled by the Force, made him lose ground. One step, two steps. Patrian was on the defensive, and it was only a matter of time before he struck the killing blow. A strike of Force Wave blew him to the ground, and he was at Syn's mercy._

"_Did you really think you could beat me, little Jedi?," he said, contemptuously._

_Patrian looked around for something, _anything, _with which he could defend himself. Syn laughed, a malevolent, obsidian laugh. His golden eyes shone brightly. "Nobody or nothing shall help you now, boy. It is over. Even though I respected your father, you shall understand that I cannot let you live. You are simply too dangerous. Die well."_

_As he raised his lightsaber, Patrian was blinded by the sheer power coming off the weapon. He turned away his head and all he heard was one shot. Waiting to die, he opened his eyes after a few moments, and saw Syn Anderson, the great dictator, the conqueror, God, Sith'ari, if you believed the legends, with a hole the size of Patrian's fist in his chest. After a period which seemed to last a lifetime, he fell over, a heap on the floor. Dark energies surrounded his body and, just like that, his body was gone, and only his robes remained. Patrian looked up to find the shooter, to defend himself, and scanned the balcony above the assembly. The tall, handsome, young figure of Jonah Nercin arose. Patrian felt his heart pound, and a pang of fear erupted in his chest. He had jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire._

_The master was dead, killed by the apprentice, in ancient Sith tradition. Jonah held a small sniper rifle, not bigger than his own forearm. Patrian saw his lightsaber, but knew that as soon as he would try to get it, Jonah would smoke him. An eternity passed. Jonah stared at Patrian, without blinking; pondering, weighing his options, thinking about what to do with this Padawan who had almost interfered with his plans. Then, just like that, he grabbed his rifle and ghosted out of the room. Patrian let out a breath he didn't know he was holding._

_An eerie silence filled the room. Light came from the glass dome above the trio, diffused through the exceptional scenes on the superb ceiling. Scenes of wars, past and present. Scenes of triumphs. Scenes of hunting. It was Syn's gift to the Committee, crafted by the very best of this time. A statue of the great Liberator himself stood in the center of the Committee. He held a lightsaber in one hand and a chart in the other. A map, with the most important planets in his career. Manaan, his birthplace. Lehon, where he started his tragic fall. Malachor V. Serocco. Dantooine._

_Patrian wandered out of the hallowed halls of the Committee, out into the streets. The same silence. For the first time in a very long time, Patrian could smile. A small squad of guards had come up to the entrance. Patrian looked up at the Committee Hall. It was a monumental performance of exquisite architecture. Two colonnades of pillars lined the Hall, depicting yet other scenes of Syn's rise to power, his victories, his ancestors, and other legendary figures. Malak, the Sith Lord before him. Revan, the Sith Lord who found redemption, but had gone off to fight another threat and thus left a vacuum for Syn to exploit. The Exile, who had saved the universe from the Dark Triumvirate, who were sculpted beside her. Traya. Sion. Nihilus. A small building next to the Hall commemorated the Battle for Coruscant. A golden shrine, complete with a shrine which consisted out of Hurikane crystals and platina stones, taken directly from the Treasury, not a mile south of the Hall, with on top of it Syn's own battleship, the _Rakatan_, which he built himself. _

_It was a fitting scene for a change in leadership. For a change in the direction the galaxy was taking. The guards stopped. They itched for a command. They bristled with energy. Patrian would need men like these._

"_Spread the message. The dictator is dead. Tomorrow we start rebuilding."_

_It was over. It had only just begun._


	2. Manaan Musings

_**Chapter 2: Manaan Musings**_

Seven thirty. A beeping which seemed to build came from the clock next to the bed. Syn Anderson was standing at the window of his room, looking out over the vast ocean of Manaan, absorbed in thought. It took him five minutes to figure out that the annoying beeping could now be heard throughout the estate. He walked over to his bed and stopped the beeping. That was all the power he had for now, stopping the beeping of his own little clock.

Syn sighed and walked out of his room, downstairs, to the living room. His mother was already up, making breakfast, no doubt. "Good morning, honey," his mother crowed. "Hope you slept well."

"Where's father?" Syn asked.

His mother was taken slightly aback by the prompt tone in which he said it. "He only came back from his meeting with the Manaan Senate three hours ago. He's still sleeping."

Syn thought about waking him, but then decided it wasn't worth the trouble. His father had been exhausted for quite a while now, dealing with Ahto City's, Manaan's only city accessible to humans, security, political system and rebuilding. It had been sixteen years since Revan had left her mark here, drove the Sith off the face of the planet. The Republic had been setting up a government ever since, made up of Selkath and a few able politicians from the Core Worlds, like Syn's father. Anaos Anderson had been a judge on Coruscant for many years when Revan had first come along and begun her conquest against the Republic. His extreme loyalty to the republican cause was well-noted, so he joined the army and quickly made a career there as an excellent strategist, a well-liked right-hand man to Fleet Admiral Dodonna. He orchestrated many battles, secured many crucial worlds and had eventually been given his own section of ships, Golden Wing. He continued his resistance when Malak took up the mantle of Dark Lord, although the sudden rise of the young Jedi Bastila and her ability to influence entire battles with Battle Meditation overshadowed his generally superb work as commander. After Revan had blitzed her way to the Republic's salvation, Anaos was bestowed with many honours, and had been given an extremely well-paid job as a diplomat: he now mediated between the Republic and ravaged worlds, even helping in the set-up of the Telos Restoration Project, which was now in its final phase. Finally, he was asked to create a formal Senate on Manaan, an important world because of its 'healing juice', kolto. He stamped his authority on the world almost immediately, and now the Senate convened monthly, and has legislative and executive powers. Treaties with Coruscant and the Republic followed, and, since then, Anaos had done everything to smooth the transition to a complex political system on a world which was not hostile, but certainly cold towards outsiders.

It had been sixteen long years since Anaos and his wife Milla had first come to the waterworld, but they had left their mark. As for Syn himself, he was found to be exceptionally intelligent at a young age and was admitted to the finest Manaan School, Ahto City Academy. He was now in his senior year, he was the supreme valedictorian, and had been given the highly coveted and prestigious job of Junior High Priest of Ahto City. The priesthood had just stopped the Selkath parents from rioting against this decision, as it was the first time it was given to an 'outsider'. His father's connections, though, and his own personal charisma calmed them down, and eventually, they just came to accept it: after all, it was awarded to the standout student of the city, and, even if it was an outsider, he could only hold it for one year. His duties included leading out the Selkath military (which was pathetically undermanned and underequipped) in the yearly city march and presiding over the Ahto youth games, a highly important three days at the beginning of the year, where school children (mostly Selkath) competed for honour and glory against each other. The Junior High Priest could not compete, but he led the celebratory procession at the beginning and the end of the games. It was a great way to get noticed, especially if you had ambitions to climb up to the higher political echelons on Manaan: these games were attended by Manaan's finest and brightest. His father intended to send Syn to Coruscant after his studies. Syn found himself attracted to this idea. Coruscant was the very center of the galaxy, and his ambitions reached far. These two elements, combined with his father's ever-present connections, almost ensured Syn of a post on one of the mighty committees.

For now, though, he had to concentrate on the present. He decided to go running, as it was still very early and the hustle and bustle of Ahto City's street life wouldn't be so prominent as of yet. He put on some shorts and a T-shirt and some expensive running shoes and left the estate.

The Anderson Estate was a wonderful building, with one row of pillars of Anoatan marble, which reflected the sunlight beautifully; the main building was made of Carthasian glass, thick glass in a vale green which prevented people outside to look inside, but which filtered sunlight when inside. It had three stories, one with a grand living room, with fine Onderonian royal vases and a magnificent bust of admiral Carth Onasi, a close friend of Syn's father. A state-of-the-art holovideo was installed, and the furniture was the latest from the Archerre family on Coruscant, and, of course, highly pricey. The kitchen on this floor was very modernized and automated, but his mother liked to make breakfast herself: either it kept her busy, or she liked doing it. On the second floor, the bedrooms: Syn's own was quite large, with one bed with Columian silk sheets, a gym which Syn didn't like to use, he liked the smell and sight of the utside world too much; of course his own holovid set, and, above all, a personal library of all the greatest works: _On War _by the master general Vaklu; _On the Force _by the excellent Jedi Vash; _The History of the Republic, _by the famous historian John Riskin; and many more. On the third floor, there was the guest wing, and, on top of the estate, you had the swimming pool, which Syn did like to use in the summer, to cool off: new technology had made certain that the temperature was perfect in accordance with your own desires, tastes, and, even, emotions of the moment. If you were feeling angry, for example, it'd be cooler than when you were happy: the cold washed away your anger, and the heat made you hold on to that joyful feeling. It was, as all things in the manor, very rare and expensive. Other buildings included a little shack dedicated to the Battle of Rakata Prime, in which Revan had outmanoeuvred Malak and eventually saved the Republic: Anaos had been present at that final battle, and had fought valiantly. Syn would occassionally visit the shack, in which a small stone plate, with different levels of precious metals and gems, was prominent. He would often let his mind wander to what it would have been like, to command a force such as Malak's, or, for that matter, Dodonna's or his father's. It wasn't necessarily the power which intoxicated him as much as the sheer excitement surrounding such a battle, the preparations, laying the plans, and watching them see executed to perfection. A machine, where everybody knew his role, even he himself, was what he dreamed of. Absolute power didn't interest him. He knew even the most powerful general or brilliant politician had responsibilities towards his people. Unrelenting power would disturb powerful opponents, and not only politicial rivals and military men. The people would not stand for another war so soon. Control the people, control the world. Control the galaxy. But could it be done? Revan had had her opponents. The Republic, as a whole. She had had to resort to violence, even if it was calculated. Would she have won? Malak couldn't, that was clear. They both started from the top down, wanted to control the Jedi to turn the political scene to their side, and, eventually, the Republic. But what if you could start from the bottom up? Control the people, control the galaxy, indeed.

For now, though, running was at hand. Syn enjoyed running around Ahto City, its sheer beauty sometimes amazed him, even after sixteen years. He liked the ocean winds blowing in his face, making his every move more difficult; he liked pitting his body against the elements. After a good hour of running intensively, he decided to return home and have some breakfast.

As he walked home, he splashed some water from the many fountains spread throughout the floating city in his face, and noticed that life was really starting now: shopkeepers were opening their shops, Selkath were running hastily to and fro a kolto packaging center, and even some cantina drunks were still stumbling about, trying to find the way home, no doubt. As he came across the courts, he wondered if dad would be awake by now. He needed to ask him if it was okay his friend Karo came over. She was an intelligent young Selkath, was in his class, and was one of the best at science: she had even created her own racer for the swoop track, but as it was enormously difficult to get the money and have enough talent to make it there, recreational runs were the only thing accessible for her for now.

They had spent so much time together for the last two years that people had started to whisper and suggest that they were seeing each other, going out, and were in love. Syn was unsure. I mean, he certainly could talk with Karo, about everything; and he had no problems with the fact she was of a different species; and he sure had fun everytime he was with her, but love? That was something else entirely. It wasn't a physical aspect that made him doubt, but more the social difficulties which such a... bond could bring. Would the Selkath ever accept that kind of love? An outsider and one of Manaan's brightest? Selkath were infamous for consolidating the 'purity' of their race, to keep the gene pool clean. Not to mention the procreational problems it would bring.

He had reached the Anderson Estate. He typed in the code in the keypad and the door opened. As he entered the door, a strange smell entered his senses. It was difficult to describe, it was a smell of dignity, of worth. It was a smell of respect, and of importance. A smell which he had noticed often around his father. Syn didn't know how he picked these 'smells' up, and he had never talked to anyone about it, not even Karo, because he had never thought much of it. He didn't wonder about if often, it just seemed to pop up every now and then. But this smell, this thick air of such strength that hung upon the air... it was something different, something he had never noticed before. As he moved slowly from the door towards the kitchen, he heard voices. His mother's, obviously, but also a man. Not his father, that much was clear. Stealthily, Syn moved towards the kitchen. He could now see a lanky figure, with balding blond hair, probably in his mid-forties. He had a deep, slow, booming voice, which demanded respect. His movements were gracious and economical. He noticed that the man was missing his left middle finger. He was wearing a brown robe, which seemed to hang about him almost royally. Everything about the man made Syn think that he was someone of great authority. Above all, the lightsaber that clung to his belt was truly wonderful to behold. Syn had always wanted to see a Jedi in action, and now one had come. For him, perhaps? No, probably for his father. It was not unheard of that his father met and had dealings with the Jedi. After all, he was a powerful political figurehead.

"So you see, Mrs. Anderson, it is of critical importance that he is brought in now, or he will -" The man cut off his sentence abruptly as he turned around so quickly that Syn was startled. He wished he hadn't snuck around. The man faced him, coolly. "Hello, Syn. Please sit down. There is much to say."

"I'll go get your father," his mother said, and she went upstairs, a bit too rapidly to hide the fact she was ill at ease.

Syn eyed the man suspiciously. The man smiled and gestured to a chair. Syn furrowed his brow. Who was this man to say what he had to do in his own house, even if he was a Jedi? Nevertheless, he sat down. After a moment's silence, the man began to speak, in that loud voice that commanded respect.

"We've heard about your remarkable progress here, Syn. We've heard about your results, about your position. We think you may be a valuable addition the Jedi family. Would you like that?"

Syn groaned mentally. He was treating him like some child, some baby. He just nodded.

"Excellent. Of course, we would like your parents' permission before you start your training, plus we have to make preparations for the trip. But where are my manners! My name is Jedi Master Miron Antonel. I have been on the Dantooine Jedi Council for five years now, and we now have a teeming facility with over one hundred students and Padawan. We are the top academy – next to Coruscant – of course, and we have monitored your evolution over the last ten years. You are a quite remarkable young man, Syn. Not only is the Selkath language notoriously difficult to learn, you have managed to be the top student on Manaan. Quite unique." The man stared intently at Syn, so much that it became unsettling. "Yes, quite unique, indeed."

At that exact moment, his father, still hastily putting on some clothes and combing his hair, came down to the kitchen with his mother in tow.

"Ah, Miron, it is good to see you again," his father stated. "How is it going? And the academy on Dantooine?"

"Everything is well, Anaos. But I am not here for you, to speak bluntly. I am here for your son."

The three adults in the room turned to Syn. He was still digesting the information put to him. A Jedi...

"Syn? You mean... he can become a Jedi?," his father asked, hesitantly.

"We believe so. His skill in languages and diplomacy are almost unmatched in someone so young. We believe he will be a great mediator for the Jedi. After some training, of course." Miron smiled at that.

"Wait a minute," his father said. "Syn is sixteen already. Don't the Jedi pick their prospects up ten years earlier?"

Miron had obviously expected this question. "There are... certain factions within the new political system that need new blood just as much as we do. The new Republic needs generals, politicians, diplomats. We first noticed Syn ten years ago, after Revan's passage here, but we wanted to see if he really had the potential we thought he had. It was difficult to keep track of his Force potential, because of the sheer size of Ahto City and the fact that his famous father keeps his family very well protected. That, combined with the subtle pressure from the republican authorities to lay off a wunderkind they thought they could use, made us doubt about taking him in for training. But now," Miron smiled, "We think he is ready. The Force has manifested himself quite extraordinarily in him, according to our readings, and, if I can just test him later today, we can be absolutely sure. If his strength is only half of what we think it is, we think he will pick up the basics easily."

His father pondered this answer for a while. "Well, Syn, it's up to you. You have my blessing, and your mother's too, I think." Anaos turned to face his wife and she nodded in agreement.

Miron's voice filled the room again. "You will have to understand, Anaos, that you will be prohibited from helping your son in any way. Financially, most importantly. It would cause unnecessary friction within our enclave. I'm sure you follow me."

Anaos didn't say anything. He looked at Syn.

"I... want to do this, father. It is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I cannot let this slip."

His father smiled. "That's my son. Ambitious as always."

"I have some business to finish in the Ahto City Political District. I will return later for the test. We leave tonight," Miron said as he was getting ready to leave.

"Wait!" Syn shouted. "What about my stuff, and my friends, and -"

"We leave tonight," Miron said in a tone that wouldn't put up with any backtalk. "That is ample time to conduct your final business on this planet. Your new life begins, Syn. Be ready."


	3. The First Hours Of The Rest Of Your Life

_**Chapter 3: The First Hours Of The Rest Of Your Life**_

Syn spent the next half hour in his room. He rummaged through his books and created a pile of books he thought he could use while in training. When he saw that the pile was getting larger than he himself, he looked through the pile again, threw some of the less important works into a corner, but then started doubting again about their inclusion. Finally, after about twenty minutes, he abandoned his quest and just shelved all the books again. He decided that everything he should know, would be in the Jedi Archives on Dantooine.

Syn sat on the bed, just figuring out what was going on in his life all of a sudden. Everything had been so simple: his school, his magistracy, his family, even Karo. But now, in under an hour, everything he knew, everything he cared for, was turned upside down. Had he taken a rash decision? He could just finish the Academy, go to Coruscant and live the rest of his life squabbling about trade tariffs and making good money. That was the easy way. But this opportunity, this Jedi opportunity, was something he had never thought of. It was... shocking, really. Sure, he had pictured himself as a Jedi when he was younger. But every kid had. He figured he could take the chance. After all, even if he failed, which he thought quite unlikely, he could always revert to the easy way. His father would still be there.

He stood up abruptly. There was still much to do. He decided he would go see Karo first. He didn't know what he was going to tell her, but he'd make it up as he went along.

He put on a fresh T-shirt as he noticed he had been sweating. Which was strange in and of itself. The last time he remembered he had sweated was just before a younger Selkath student had fallen off an instrument in the gymnasium. He realized now that that had been the Force. And he realized now that the Force had warned him then. But now? He was going to possibly the safest place in the galaxy, and he was born on arguably the second safest planet of the galaxy. Who could, or maybe better would, harm those around him? Or him? He decided it had to be the result of the excitement and tension which had arisen from the news of his acceptance into the Order.

He felt that the need to talk to Karo was rising. As he left the estate and walked down Ahto City's main avenue, he felt the world around himself was blurring, he could only think of her. As he bumped into a Selkath and mumbled an apology, he snapped back into reality. What the hell was that? He felt dizzy. He dropped to his knees next to a fountain in the main square and put his head into the water. As it was summer, his hair would dry quickly. He looked into the water and saw his reflection. He had a normal face, tanned by Manaan's omnipresent sun. He had grey-blue eyes which were small and almost always scanning around, looking for information. He had pretty short brown hair, and the stubble of a beard for which he was actually a year or two too young. His nose was hooked, but not prominent. And his mother had always raved about his swan neck, elegant and a recurring attribute in his father's family.

He continued on and took a left turn. This was the Sacred Way, scene of Atho City's – and Manaan's – finest. Many of the judges, generals and politicians had their home here. It had gotten its name at the very beginning of Ahto City, when a special sector had to be constructed for the planetary clergy. Selkath religion, however, had somewhat petered out over late and the houses had been bought up and upgraded by the rich and famous.

Karo's house was big but the Anderson Estate, only a block or two away, seemed to loom over it. He had never got rid of the idea that his family's riches had created a barrier between Karo and himself, a final insurmountable hill which seemed to separate him from Karo's true self, her pure personality. As he reached Karo's house, he noticed that she was sitting in her splendid garden, reading a book on a bench in front of the house. The house was made of the fine marble which defined Selkath upper class and had an entrance which led into an atrium where Karo and Syn had spent many summer evenings, enjoying the sunlight which was filtered through the superb glass dome. This dome depicted various underwater themes and the power of the ocean. Further in, there was a kitchen and a living room, and Karo had her room on the first floor, but more than that, Syn had never seen. He didn't need to.

As Syn approached, Karo put her book next to her and looked up. He smiled as they made eye contact, but Karo didn't smile back. She had a look of regret and sadness on her face. Syn wondered why. She couldn't have heard about his departure already. He himself had only heard about an hour ago. Then again, Karo had always had her moments of often inexplicable melancholy, which seemed to burst to the surface at irregular intervals. He guessed it was that time again.

"Hey, Karo, how's it going?" he said, searching for the answer to his doubts.

"Hi, Syn. I'm just – oh, it's nothing." She seemed to brighten suddenly, a smile was across her face in an instant. Warmth welled up in Syn's chest: her smile made him feel good again. "Come, sit next to me." She grabbed the book and laid it neatly on her lap.

Syn walked over and sat next to her. They sat there for a long time, just enjoying each other's company. They had reached the stage of friendship – or was it something different? Something more? - where you didn't need to talk to each other all the time to feel comfortable. Syn thought about how he was going to put his decision to her. His palms were sweaty. He grinned. He had led out five hundred adolescents his age and the Selkath army and hadn't blinked, but now, he was sweating like a Wookiee in a sauna. He decided he was just going to say it, just put it out there clearly, and wait for her reaction.

"I'm – I'm leaving tonight, Karo. I've had a visit from a Jedi Master and, well, he said I could join him. The Order, I mean." She turned her head and looked at him. Syn kept on staring to a fixed point in front of him, trying to avoid her gaze. "I want to do this, Karo. I'll regret it forever if I don't take it." He faced her so quickly she seemed to stiffen a bit. "I need to do this."

Karo smiled. "If you're so sure, how come you're having doubts?"

Syn looked away. She could always read him perfectly. He made up his mind, and, for the first time in his life, he put himself out there. He put himself in a position where he was vulnerable, where he had to show his true feelings, his passions. His heart throbbed in his throat. He wondered if Karo could hear it. "I love you, Karo. You're... different. You know me, you can always cheer me up. I've had my doubts for a very long time if it was what I wanted, and then I had doubts about whether the people around us would accept it... but I realize that I was just making up excuses, afraid to confront myself. I want to be with you." He laughed, briefly, but he wished he hadn't. It was a mad scientist's laugh. "Heh, my father always told me that duty was the most important thing in life, that I had to put duty in front of myself, in front of the people around me. But I never thought I'd have to deal with that dilemma. Not so soon, anyway. And I've chosen. I've chosen duty. I've chosen the Jedi. But, Karo," he stood up and knelt down in front of her. _Good job, _he thought_, why don't you ask her to marry you too._ "if you say you love me, if you want me to stay, I'll stay it. I swear it."

His mind raced, he was on an emotional rollercoaster. He stared straight at Karo, who was now staring into the distance. Something was off, though, Syn thought. She was... hesitant. As if she was struggling with herself. As if she was torn between two sides as well. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally answered. He could hear her voice was dry, that she was struggling to find the words she wanted. "I – I can't, Syn. You're a... a friend, but not someone I want to be with." She looked as if she was reciting a line, as if she was an actress. "I don't love you."

It hit him like a brick in the stomach. As if all the marble of her estate came crashing down at the same time. He thought he'd pass out. His mind was numb. He couldn't think. Suddenly the Jedi were a universe away. He felt as if he could tear open his chest, to let out his pain. But he couldn't. And then, the red haze settled down. The fury, at being rejected. At his careful position of vulnerability. At opening himself up, truly, for the very first time, to someone he trusted completely. He had just enough common sense left to leave before he started smashing the door, the porch, the garden, everything. He didn't say goodbye. He just left. And as the cool wind and the ocean sounds came down over the silent manor again, for the first time in his life, Syn cried.

**A**s he made his way towards his home, he dried his tears on his T-shirt. But his anger hadn't dried. It was still there. It wouldn't go away. Syn had always controlled his emotions: his public position wouldn't accept any petulance, there would be no outbursts, no ventilation of anger or sorrow. And now, he felt he couldn't hold down this hatred any longer. As he walked across the boulevard again, he noticed that one of the fountain regulator devices had burst open and the street was being flooded with the crystal water. A protocol droid next to him malfunctioned and went down in a wave of sparks.

As he reached the end of the street and neared the manor, he felt better, somehow. As he dried the last of the tears, he noticed something else on his shirt. Something red. Blood. As he felt under his nose, a small trickle of blood was coming down still. He must have burst a blood vessel or small artery in his anger. However, he found it bizarre. The flood, the droid, and now the blood... too much to be mere coincidence. Could it be that, in his rage, in letting it all out, in a way unbeknownst to him, he had used the Force in some small way? That it had manifested itself now? He would ask Miron of this, later on. For now, he punched in his keycode, and entered the estate. The smell was already there. Miron had come for the testing.

As Syn entered the living room, Miron was sitting in one of the chairs. He had a mug of coffee in his hand, which he set down on the table as soon as he noticed Syn's presence.

"Ah, Syn, you are here. Please, have a seat. This won't take long," he stated calmly as he reached into his pocket.

As Syn gritted his teeth against the swagger with which he seemed to think he could command Syn in his own house yet again, he took a seat anyway. He wasn't about to start his Jedi career off badly by displaying his foolish pride so openly.

As Syn wondered where his parents were, Miron pulled out a black, rectangular device with two small metal teeth at one end, and a small, dark green computer with an opening.

As he stood up, Syn was amazed to see that the man must have been over six and a half foot tall. It hadn't seemed that way when he was sitting down. "Now, just pull your right thumb back as far as you can." Syn did so, and a small amount of skin between his thumb and index finger was tightened. "This is going to hurt a little bit," Miron said, and the metal teeth from the black device sunk themselves into the skin. A pang of pain spread across his right arm, but Syn held it back. "Alright, it's over," the tall Jedi said with a smile. Syn relaxed his arm. Miron put the device into the computer, and a low humming filled the silent room. Syn thought about his parents again. _If they aren't here soon, I'm going to have to leave. _He felt strangely close to his mother and father now. He had never fully realized how important they were to his life. They were veterans, people he could fall back on, who gave him strength. It was going to be all about his own skill from now on. Syn was pulled out of his musings by a sharp tone emitted by the computer. "Everything seems to be in order," Miron stated. Syn could've sworn he saw the Jedi's eye twitch, almost unnoticeably, when the sharp tone filled the estate. "Are you ready to leave?"

"What, now?" Syn cried. "But I still have to pack my clothes, and I don't know where my parents are."

"You will not need clothes where we are going, Syn. And your father wanted me to tell you that he had to go to an emergency Senate meeting and your mother was held up at the administrative office in the center of town. I think it was something about her identification papers. No matter. We have to leave now, Syn, or we will not make it in time for your first set of exercises. You have much to learn, and very little time to do it in. The life of a Jedi is sacrifice," Miron said with a warm smile. "Let this be your first lesson."

Syn agreed, but felt miserable all the same. Miron stood up, full of energy. Syn almost had to pick himself up. The tall, dignified, authoritative, hooded figure, and the Junior High Priest of Manaan, in a wet and bloody T-shirt. It must've been quite the sight. They left the estate without saying a word and made their way to the Manaan Spaceport.

It was almost midday now, the streets were packed. They took a right and a left and they passed the docking officer. After a good ten minutes, they entered the large Hangar Way. You could follow the Way in both directions for hours on end. The road was plain, a white floor with a white-blue patterned wall on one side and doors at selected intervals on the other side, only accessible via special key cards. They took a left turn. Syn lost count of how many hangar doors they passed, but they eventually came to a stop next to hangar C-28. Miron pulled out a red key card. The large door opened. As they passed through it, there was an audio warning of the fact they were now out of Selkath officiated terrain. Miron opened another door, and a ship appeared in front of Syn's eyes.

"There she is. Isn't she a beauty?" Miron asked rhetorically. "The _Prince Dragon._ The pride of the Dantooine Jedi Enclave. With the help of some of the more affluent Dantooine settlers, we've had it modified countless times. She's got a top-notch hyperdrive, two four-bed dormitories, a laundry, two kitchens, a middle-sized mess hall and a cockpit big enough for three people." Syn was impressed. His father had a ship, of course, the _Aegis_, but he had always been opposed to unrestrained luxury. The estate had been decorated intensively and expensively, but the pool had been his mother's idea. No swoop racer, no droid servants, no artificial island on Manaan's ocean. The _Aegis, _much like his father,was decent, smart and respectable.

"I have taken the liberty of having everything prepared for our journey. We leave immediately," Miron said, in his usual thrifty manner of speech. With that, he made his way towards the ramp and entered the ship, with Syn in tow.

"To the left you have the Jedi dormitories. You will stay there until we arrive," Miron explained as Syn was still coming up the ramp. Before Syn could ask, he added: "In less than three days." As he made his way towards the center of the vessel, he gave Syn a tour. "Here, you have the Central Room, also called Map Room. We have a detailed database of every known planet in the galaxy here," - he gestured towards a round computer which displayed a hologram of Manaan - "and if you continue on the way we are coming, you will eventually reach the East dormitories and the mess hall, for the crew. Now," he said, as they came to a stand in the room, "to the north, you have the hyperdrive, the medical center and the laundry. Just to your left, you have the first kitchen. If we go to the south," Miron continued his way through the ship, "you have a room just to your right: the main computer room. This is where all relevant data surrounding the _Prince Dragon _is stored: its former journeys, the crew manifest, general power levels. And if we leave this room and continue to the south, we have the cockpit, with all necessary instruments. Now, since this is a low-risk and low-ranked trip," he said, as he turned to face Syn, "there is only one other crewman beside yourself and me." They both entered the cockpit, and Syn was not surprised to find a man, probably the captain, checking ship stats and preparing for launch. He didn't notice Miron and Syn entering the room, and so was a little startled when Miron spoke. "This is First Captain Sash Andik." As he muttered something about running late and Jedi, he extended a hand to Syn with a big wink. Syn knew he was going to like the captain. "He is Dantooine's finest captain and has fought countless battles for the Jedi."

"Ah, that's too much, Master Antonel. But thanks all the same." He was a middle-sized, young man, probably in his late twenties, with ginger hair and a cigarette between his teeth. He wore a red-and-orange uniform which looked like it needed a trip to the laundry. He spoke in a good-natured voice, maybe a bit too loud for Miron's tastes, but he looked sparky. He offered to eat something with Syn later on, to get to know each other a little better. Miron looked on silently.

"Yes, of course. But for now, get the ship up and running, Sash. I will escort our young guest to the laundry. Good first impressions are extremely important, my young student," he said, with a knowing smile towards Syn's T-shirt. "As you will find out in due course."

After they had reached the laundry room and powered on the machine, Syn retreated to his room. Miron made his way to the Map Room.

Emotions had run wild this morning. First the news about his Jedi acceptance, then Karo, and now this sudden departure. As he realized he had wanted to ask Miron about the 'accident' with the fountain and the droid, he cursed silently and made his way back to the Map Room. This was important enough, he figured.

As he came to the edge of the chamber, he heard Miron talking to someone. Syn didn't want to disturb him, so he waited. He saw that the Jedi was communicating via an interstellar comm device, which he had seen his father use many times. Syn assumed he was talking to one of his colleagues on Dantooine.

"No, they were sent out. Yes, he is here. Willingly, of course. We will join you in three days, at most. The girl? She did what she was told to."

Syn froze. Who were they talking about, exactly? His mind considered the possibilities. They were probably discussing one of the students in the Dantooine Enclave. But there was also the chance... No. Syn shook his head. No, Karo didn't have anything to do with this. What could _she _possibly have to do with the Jedi? She obviously wasn't Force sensitive. Syn looked up and let out a gasp as he saw that Miron stood right in front of him now. He had moved impossibly quickly and silently. He wondered if the Jedi had known he was listening. "Yes, Syn?"

"I – I just wanted to know if I could eat something. I'm starving."

Miron smiled. "Of course. Use the East kitchen. It's bigger."

Syn decided he would wait. He didn't want to start a fuss over something of which he knew nothing; after all, he had heard only one sentence. It probably meant nothing. And it wouldn't look good if he were to mistrust the Jedi who had made a multiple-day trip just for him immediately.

He eventually found the kitchen, and ate a small snack. Then he decided it was time to take a nap. He had to be rested, and it wasn't as if Miron or Sash would need him. As he wondered if he would have to start calling Miron 'Master' now, he was engulfed by sleep.

**S**yn arose from a fitful sleep. He could see someone standing next to his bed. It wasn't Miron; this man was much smaller. Still half-asleep, the sleep began to drain as if someone was literally taking it out of his body. Syn was alert now. Something was definitely wrong.

"Listen to me very carefully," the man said in a whisper, "you are in grave danger. I don't have much time, it was difficult enough to hide here without being detected by -"

He was cut off by the ignition of a blue lightsaber in the doorway. Miron was standing there, his face dimly lit by the blue energy.

"You will not take this child," the unknown man said in a trembling voice. Syn could smell the fear of death radiating, oozing from the mysterious man now.

Miron said nothing, he just stood there, in the half-dark. Syn couldn't see the expression on his face. Then, sudden and brutal, the blue beam moved forward. Syn heard a thud, and a couple of seconds later the decapitated body fell to the ground. Miron turned on the lights with the Force and clipped the deactivated lightsaber to his belt.

"One of them. I thought they had been following us," Miron said. Syn could now hear contempt in his sneering voice, so very different from the calm authority which the Jedi had displayed earlier. He turned to Syn. "Tell me, Syn, what did he say?"

Something about the way in which he said it, or the urgency about this usually commanding personality, or maybe just his natural charisma, made Syn want to spill the bit of information he had gained. "He – he just said I was in grave danger. What does that mean?"

Miron sat down on one of the beds. He sighed. "It's the Sith, Syn. The new Sith. Not led by a powerful Lord, but trying to gain new recruits, getting to them before we can. Trying to start again. They tell young Force sensitive beings that the Jedi are corrupt, that they will become puppets of the Republic and the Order; that the Sith are the answer, that they will bring a new order, new strength to the galaxy. The usual garbage" Syn was surprised to feel such... anger around Miron's words. He thought Jedi were above such petty emotions. "And then they break them to create mindlessly loyal killing beasts. It's... subtle, we didn't even notice it until a couple of months ago, but they're here. They are back. And now they getting more foolish. This one had stowed himself away on this ship when he heard of my mission, and wanted to take you before we had the chance to leave. That was why we had to leave, Syn. I couldn't tell you, then, because it would have taken too long, but, now, I think you deserve to know." Miron's face was very grave now. "You must understand, naturally, that this is highly sensitive information. If this were to ever spread out on Dantooine... all control over the students would be lost. Nobody would trust one another anymore. There are even reports of these new Sith hiding on Dantooine, trying to prise students away from us on their arrival. That's why we now send Knights and Masters and escort them to the enclave grounds. We can't take any chances." There was only the silent buzzing of the lights above them for a long time, but then, Syn spoke up.

"Why are you telling me this, Master Antonel?"

Miron smiled. "Because I think you can be valuable to us. Even without training, with your natural leadership abilities and language and diplomacy skills. We want to avoid an all-out war; it would cause unnecessary casualties. But we Masters cannot investigate, it would draw too much attention. Some of the more promising students have been given the assignment to search for clues or data, but the true nature of their mission is unknown to them. They merely think they are performing some test for their final acceptance into the Order, gathering information about lowly criminals. But it is much more important than that." Miron seemed to ponder the situation for a moment. "We don't want to cause panic, Syn. Your natural skills may help us getting information from locals or politicians. And, of course, you would become a Jedi along the way. And weed out some Sith while becoming one."

Syn stared at the body in front of him. This was big. The return of the Sith? And he had to fight them? Just a couple of hours ago he was thinking about reading a book, and now, suddenly, he was thrust into a stealth war between the two superpowers of the galaxy.

As thoughts raced across his mind, the drained sleep suddenly returned to him. His head hurt and he felt he had to lie down. He went into a deep sleep without saying another word.

Miron looked at Syn for a long time before he dimmed the lights. He walked to the Map Room and took the comm unit out of his robe. He activated it and contacted the one person for whom the device was meant. "Yes. He is ready."


	4. Approaching Dantooine

_**Chapter 4: Approaching Dantooine**_

Syn awoke from a dreamless sleep. What time was it? Time had no meaning on a spaceship: it could've been four in the morning, for all he knew. His stomach rumbled, so he decided he'd go and grab some breakfast. Or lunch. Or maybe it was dinner. He noticed that the other beds were empty: either Master Antonel hadn't gone to sleep or he was still up. Syn wanted to avoid him for the moment, if that was at all possible in a confined starship. All the information... it was difficult to digest and believe. He had heard the stories from his father, of course: Malak and Revan, the fallen and the redeemed hero. But the Sith had never been part of his life. That was an aspect Syn's father wanted to keep from him as much as possible. And now, he was going on a scout mission, with the most basic of trainings, probably. A part of him looked forward to it, though: it was an excellent chance to cement his place among the Dantooine Academy's leadership.

Syn wasn't planning on staying long on this planet: he had heard it was very quiet, very rustic; a refuge for Jedi everywhere. He wanted to be doing things, to make a difference. He wanted to go where he could do these things: the Core worlds. He wanted to form alliances, to get some connections, so that he wouldn't be so vulnerable when he finally was a Jedi. The paths of his father didn't mean anything to him: he wanted to build his own network.

Much had changed since his father's heyday: more and different senators, an increased importance for Jedi as mediators in politics; and more jobs for specialists as a result of those evolutions: peace-keeping missions, security assignments, and there was obviously some... persuading to do. Many worlds had either collapsed during the dark decade of Revan, Malak, Sion, Nihilus and even Traya – the five last great Sith Lords; or they had become disillusioned with Republic disinterest in the defence of their planets, their homes. These worlds needed rebuilding, both literally and in the sense of juxtaposing their opinion with the Republic's again. Jedi still retained their extremely respected position, so they were often sent to Outer Rim regions to settle conflicts or to act as intermediaries between a stubborn planetary government and Republic officials. The most adept Jedi diplomats had even been known to have been sent to Core territories to do some more high-risk missions. These planets were imperative to the still vulnerable Republic, and their secession would have grave consequences: they could initiate a domino effect on other doubting worlds, which would have catastrophical consequences. The differences and conflicts there had to be handled with the utmost care. Only the most experienced Jedi were deemed worthy for these sensitive cases. On top of that, a battalion of troops was often sent along with these diplomat-Jedis to assist them. Their presence usually was enough to calm down affairs: their role was that of the threatening animal. The Jedi's was that of the beast master.

Syn put on a long-sleeved shirt which Miron – or maybe Sash – had put on the one table in the otherwise very plain room: the usual dark blue/black walls and floor, two lights on the ceiling and then the decent beds, not meant for prolonged usage – say, more than a month. He made his way towards the East kitchen.

As he walked through the Central Room, he noticed that Miron was absent – probably off somewhere meditating, Syn thought, not without any natural contempt. He didn't care for these aspects of being a Jedi: the meditating, the pondering, the incessant discussions. These things were for better times, for when the era of a Restored Republic had begun. Now, the universe needed action, not preaching of wisdom, calm and patience. People wanted arrangements, they wanted safety, they wanted a future. He had heard the tales of how the Order had refused to help the Republic in their recent war against the Mandalorians, because they sensed a greater threat, and how Revan and Malak had come to the rescue with some of the more eager students. After that, they had returned as Sith. The evidence surrounding that part of history was, at best, hazy: some said Revan had returned as a conqueror of worlds, a genuine imperialist. Others, a minority, pointed to the fact that most of the infrastructure of important worlds had remained intact throughout Revan's time at the helm of his enormous Sith fleet. Maybe he had had a purpose, maybe he was preparing the galaxy from this 'threat' the Masters had sensed. Where this view had come from, nobody knew. One thing was for certain: only excellent military analysts and scientists, or those close to Revan, could have deducted this conclusion. And that gave their opinion some, if not great, credibility.

As he left the Map Room, he heard Sash swearing to the cockpit instruments – something about uneducated Dantooine mechanics and the hyperdrive. Syn stepped through the hall leading up to the East kitchen, his stomach protesting loudly at the recent lack of food. He grabbed a prepared meal from one the storage containers, heated it, and sat down on of the many benches connected to a table in the adjoining mess hall. As he gorged down the food, he thought of Karo again, and a deep sadness now spread across his chest. Tears welled up in his eyes again, but he could them back this time. He had just... left her, without saying anything at her rejection. He wondered how she was now, what she was doing now. Maybe she had forgotten him already. He rid himself of this possibility: _no, she couldn't have. Could she? _They had been so close, and now that bond, that relationship, was just gone. Surely she had it as bad, or worse, as he? He decided the first planet he would visit after his training would be Manaan, to finish what he had started. To set the record straight. He couldn't just leave her behind. He wanted to talk to her, he needed her to explain her coarse answer. He needed a why. _I don't love you. _Her words echoed through his mind. That wasn't enough. He now remembered her hesitance, the unsteady voice in which she had said it, her wary demeanour. And then that line. _I don't love you._ As it had come straight out of some clichéd romantic holofilm, which Karo hated. It was all very strange, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible.

He was worried, though, about the pure anger which had taken hold of him after their... conversation. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It had come quickly and had left just as sudden. He felt he probably should tell Master Antonel about it, but he felt a resistance to that thought. Was it embarassment? Or fear of his reaction? Or the worry of making a bad start? It was important, that was all he knew. Master Antonel could probably feel that spectre still inside him which he himself felt very clearly. It was a bright, white hot flame next to his heart which seemed to have manifested itself there during or just after his fury, which he could see if he closed his eyes. Maybe it _was _that anger, its form; if that were the case, he would have to tread carefully from now on. First there had been nothing, now a small flame... who knows how big it might become. Something tugged at him in his brain, telling him this was something he'd better keep to himself. _But if one of the Jedi finds out, I'm screwed_, he thought. _They'd think I had been keeping something negative, a dangerous emotion from them all this time. _He decided to wait and take a chance: if the flame remained as it was now or, he hoped, went away, there would be no problem. If it were to become bigger... he would have to talk to one of his trainers, or possibly one of the Council members. For now, though, he threw his leftovers into one of the mess hall's bins and made his way towars the Map Room. He decided to check out some of the planetary records stored in its computer.

As he was sifting through the data regarding the planets which had been interesting to him before – Hurikane, with its rare crystals, mysterious inhabitants and strong winds; Nar Shaddaa, a planet teeming with life, but a criminal hole all the same; Tatooine, a planet to which Syn had always felt a strange draw: he wanted to see a planet without water after Manaan – he decided to check out the information on Dantooine. All of it was pretty standard: an impression of the planet popped up, a view of the planet from space with all the info neatly under it: Dantooine was a rural planet, characterized by rolling plains, a continual spring season, dotted with small farms; it had one, ever-expanding community, Khoonda, and of course a Jedi Academy, which had been destroyed by Malak during the Jedi Civil War. It had been almost completely rebuilt since then, and now, it was busier than ever before, with around 100 students and archives second only to Coruscant's.

It had three Masters on its council, as opposed to the set-up a decade earlier: it had had four Council members back then. It now consisted of a Master Nercin, human; a Master Vara, Twi'lek; and, of course, Master Antonel, human as well. There was no further information on the trio; Syn figured it was dangerous to have their past, skill and appearance bandied around.

Just as Syn was getting ready to pick up his old T-shirt, which must've been clean by now, Master Antonel approached from the North hallway. As he entered the Central Room, he had a look of worry about his face. He was furrowing his brow, and biting his lip while seemingly pondering a situation. "Something's wrong," he stated.

He made his way towards the cockpit, and, after a moment's doubt, Syn followed close by. He thought about asking the Jedi about what he thought was 'wrong', but then concluded it wasn't his place to ask, and, if it was important, Master Antonel would either tell him or solve it.

"Sash, status report." Sash turned around in his seat, surprised at the Master's grave face.

"Wha- ? There's been nothing on our radar for several hours now, Master Antonel. It's been as smooth a ride as any. No technical problems, no changing our course. We're still due to arrive within two days. We're doing swimmingly."

Master Antonel's features didn't show any change. He obviously didn't believe the instruments. "If anything changes, Sash, the slightest thing, you come tell me immediately," he said in his calm voice. Sash nodded. Master Antonel left the cockpit and made his way towards the Map Room. He sat himself down in one of the chairs around the round computer in the center of the room, and stared off into the distance.

Syn didn't know whether he should sit down next to him or just retreat to his dormitory. He decided to just stand there for the moment.

After what seemed like a very long time, the Jedi stoop up abruptly and returned to the cockpit. Sash was working frantically on the ship's instruments now, jumping from this side of the room to the other.

"Sash," the Master said. He looked up from his work.

"I don't know, Master Antonel. This shouldn't be happening. I've lost communications; we've dropped out of his hyperspace, even though the ship's computer's telling me it's working perfectly fine; and, what's worse, we're in the middle of nowhere. The nearest Republic planet is over three months away if I don't get our hyperdrive up and running again, and the _Prince_ isn't ready for that kind of journey."

Master Antonel considered this problem. "And you have no idea how this happened?"

Sash shook his head. "I've never seen something like this. It shouldn't be happening, but it is. And if I don't know what's happening, I can't fix it. Simple as that."

The Jedi pondered the situation. "I've seen it before. Only once, and it was many years ago. On a mission to the outer edges of the Outer Rim." He took a step forward, and looked straight into Sash's eyes. "If we don't get this ship back in shape, captain, we will die here today."

Sash swallowed, he was trembling now. "How... how do you mean?"

Master Antonel turned and faced Syn. He didn't like the look with which the Master was facing him now. It was one of how to protect the precious cargo. Of a calculating coldness. As the Jedi blinked, his eyes seemed to shine brightly gold in the light of the cockpit, but it was gone as soon as it had come. "Seal off the entrance, now, captain." Sash hurried to the pilot's seat, typed in a command, and, as he heard the huge blast doors seal themselves, Syn hoped that Master Antonel knew what he was doing. "Activate all escape pods." Sash's hands seemed to linger momentarily, unsure of what he meant by this comment. "Send out three, now."

Sash was sweating visibly now. "But... that would mean we only have two more left," he said in a rasping voice.

"Do it, captain," the Jedi Master said coldly. Sash's hands went to work again, and three loud bangs were heard as the life vessels made their way into the vacuum of space.

"Now, listen very carefully, this is what we're going to do," Master Antonel said, in a voice that had seen a hundred wars and had commanded thousands of troops. "Sash, I will seal you and the boy off in the Central Room. It's got the best blast doors, and it's near the escape pods. You can also view every part of the ship via the Camera Control System there. You will switch the camera to me, at the ramp, and watch me, every second. If they kill me," and Syn didn't notice any fear or even a change of tone in his voice as he said this, "you will make your way to the escape pods and leave in one of them and launch the other one. Do you understand, captain? You are not to leave the boy behind in any circumstances. If they break through, you will send the boy to the escape pods and hold them back as he escapes. He is our priority. If you have to die for him, do it. He has to reach Dantooine." As Syn looked at the captain, he noticed that he got a grip on himself now. The terror was gone, he was nodding solemnly now. He was a veteran, he knew what had to be done. But the unknown makes cowards of us all, Syn thought. The orders which Master Antonel had given this ordinary soldier now had given him something to hold on to: he had been given an assignment, there was now a cadre for him to perform it in. Protect the boy at all costs. Syn was excited now, tension filling every muscle of his body. Master Antonel looked at him. "I can feel the agitation in your body, Syn. We will have to correct that when we get to the Academy." Syn straightened warily. Did he know about the spectre already? As they looked at each other, he could now feel the Master slithering inside his mind for more information about his true feelings. Syn did everything he could to hold him back. "I sense... great dilemma within you, young one. We will have to talk about this when we get to Dantooine." Syn was panting now, the strain at keeping the Jedi out of the deeper reaches of his mind had exhausted him. Had he succeeded in keeping him out? Master Antonel's cryptic statement didn't give him any conclusive evidence on the matter.

At that moment, the walls began to shake. A loud crash was heard and the captain and Syn both fell to the ground. Master Antonel stood, fully concentrated, perfectly balanced. "They are here," he whispered. He made his way towards the West hallway and paused when he entered it. "Protect him, Sash. And... goodbye." He pushed a panel on his left and the four exits out of the Map Room were closed down with heavy blast doors. Sash made his way towards the Camera Control System and switched the camera to 'Loading Ramp.' The three screens on the East wall of the Map Room flickered to life, and Master Antonel appeared, lightsaber in hand, but not yet activated, meditating on both knees, preparing for the upcoming battle. There was no sound now. The entire ship was silent. The quiet before the storm.

Sash and Syn were breathing heavily now. All of a sudden, the blast door was blown away, a grenade was thrown into the entrance area, and smoke filled the room. A couple of seconds later, a blaster shot destroyed the camera. They looked at each other. What now?

**L**anine Norus stood, arms folded across her chest, overlooking the slick spaceship in front of her. The child was in there... somewhere. Her squadron and she herself would go in, take him, bring him on her ship, and take off. Simple as that. Crisp and clean. There would not be much resistance, from what Tenmi had managed to tell her when he had hidden himself on the ship just before it left Manaan and contact had been lost. Just a captain and... Miron Antonel. A worthy adversary, for sure. One of her soldiers came up to her. "We are ready to enter, General." Lanine's face didn't change. "Very well, commander. I will join you now." She left her position on the bridge and followed the commander to his squad. They were itching for battle, guns at the ready, armour shining. The galaxy's finest war machines. Mandalorians.

**M**aster Antonel was preparing himself for the coming battle, letting the Force seep in, feeding on it. He would need it. As he did so, he heard activity at the exterior of the blast door. He could just get out of the way before the five ton blast door came crashing down on him. A smoke grenade was thrown into his path, and it exploded immediately. He smiled. _Mandalorians. _Create unexpected circumstances and then pick your opponents off one by one with overwhelming numbers. A familiar tactic from the Mandalorian Wars. He was ready for it, now. He moved shadowily into the West hallway, leading into the West dormitories, as he heard metallic footsteps on the cold dark floor of the _Prince._ He counted a dozen of these footsteps, and they had now professionally shot the camera above them. _A squadron, six of them. But where is the leader? _A few moments later, he heard the familiar noise of leather boots, stepping calmly into the ship and then stopping, probing with the Force. The metallic footsteps had stopped as well.

Master Antonel had prepared for this. He shielded his presence from this opponent. She would only feel the captain and the boy. But he sensed her. As she conveyed her orders, the Mandalorians turned east, the shortest way to the Central Room. Their backs to him, he ghosted into position, while keeping up the smoke curtain close to him with the Force. He went to the Mandalorian closest by, at the end of the squadron, which was in a diamond formation now, with one on front and at the back, one at both sides, and two in the middle. The leader was still close to the entrance. His lightsaber still deactivated, he grabbed the Mandalorian from behind and broke his neck in one swift movement. He didn't even have time to warn his fellow soldiers. Shrouded in the thick of the smoke, he now activated his blue lightsaber. Before the five remaining Mandalorians had the chance to react, he was on top of them. He was two steps ahead of them. It was carnage. He ducked from the blast of one the assault rifles, which burned a hole into the hall. He then rammed his lightsaber through the Mandalorian's thick armour on the right. In one swift movement, he crushed the spine of the Mandalorian in front with the Force, who screamed out in agony before collapsing in a heap to the floor. Impossibly rapidly, he was the side of the Mandalorian on the left, who had his vibroblade out. As he wanted to strike the killing blow, the Mandalorian turned around swiftly and parried with his blade. Miron didn't have time for this. With a swivel, he managed to get the Mandalorian on the defensive. He knew he couldn't win now. Fuelled by the Force, Master Antonel now seemed to know his every movement, acting, not reacting, to it. Finally, he smashed the Mandalorian's blade aside and pierced through his skull. The two remaining Mandalorians were now standing back to back, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Jedi, still moving around in a cloud of smoke. He had circled around them and now sliced one of the soldiers' legs away with his blade. He fell to the floor, incredible pain piercing his every sense. The remaining Mandalorian now held the blade which he had pulled out as well firmly, as if that would somehow protect him from the merciless assailant. Lifting the smoke around him now, the Jedi went straight for the jugular, and jabbed his lightsaber through his neck, with blood coming out of it in a fountain. The crippled Mandalorian, missing both his legs, was still shrieking. Master Antonel decided to put him out of his misery and slammed the lightsaber through his chest. Only one other remained now.

Pain came into his senses now, and he noticed a nasty cut on his left upper arm, going all the way to his shoulder. One of the Mandalorians must have cut him, almost by accident. He gritted his teeth against the pain and went to the entrance. The Mandalorians' leader still stood there, patiently awaiting whatever the Force had in store for her. They could now see each other clearly. He didn't know her, but she knew him. He reached out with the Force, and sensed apprehension. A smile spread across his face at that. This would be over soon.

"You will not take him," he stated, calmly.

"No, you will not take this boy to Dantooine," his opponent said. Miron was somewhat surprised by the resolve in her words.

He attacked her directly, his speed still enhanced by the Force, but she was no easy opponent. She activated her own, silver lightsaber instantly and parried his blows easily. He noticed that he was tiring now, losing ground against this enemy whom he had underestimated. He buckled down, calling on the Force, concentrating hard. They battled for a long time, lightsabers crashing with each other, sparks flying everywhere. Then he saw a flaw in her technique, she attacked too swiftly, her blade rising too quickly. He took the opportunity, kicking her in the stomach and chopping her right hand off with his lightsaber. She went down, clasping her right arm, trying to hold back the pain. Master Antonel now kicked away her lightsaber and stood in front of her, his imposing frame towering above her. He lowered his face and whispered into her ear. "The boy will receive his training on Dantooine. Nobody will stop that. Not you, nor any Mandalorians."

She stared up at him, tears of pain now filling her eyes. She spat in his face. Standing up calmly Master Antonel wiped the spit off his face, deactivated his lightsaber and lowered himself again. He looked at her for a long time, and then turned to leave. She let out a long breath. At that moment, Master Antonel turned around quickly and jabbed out her two eyes with his right hand. She shrilled in pure pain, and held her face, clawing away at it to stop the pain. He threw the two eyes onto the ground and crushed them beneath his heel. He then grabbed the Jedi by her hair and threw her into her own ship, docked to the _Prince Dragon._ He used the Force to give himself extra strength and kicked her in the ribs. She gasped and coughed up blood. Her ribs were broken. Then, he left, leaving her to her interdictor ship, smaller than the _Prince _but specially made by the Mandalorians for these kind of missions. Hostage rescue, or hostage-taking. He sensed no one else on board.

He paused. She would die here, but he wanted to make sure of it. As he looked into her empty eye sockets via the Force, he found what he was looking for. The layer surrounding her brains, connecting it with the organs in her body via unseen channels, fuelling her breath, giving her blood a vale purple colour. He concentrated heavily and destroyed the layer. She screeched even louder than before and went into shock, saliva coming out of her mouth, her entire body shaking. He left her, and made his way towards the _Prince_'s Map Room. The journey wasn't finished yet. He had to find the captain and Syn. As he looked up at the broken camera, he just hoped they hadn't left yet.


	5. Dawn Of The Disciple

_**Chapter 5: Dawn of the Disciple**_

_He walked nervously, keeping aware of his surroundings all the time. Fresh slime was coming down the walls, and eerie noises could be heard, echoes spreading far and wide. It was almost completely dark. He used the Force to see, and finally reached his objective._

_There was only one other person there. He stood with his back to the Jedi._

_The nervous-looking man surveyed the room. Hadn't the man noticed him entering? He was about to speak, when the man's soft voice filled the room._

"_I have felt it too, Morcen. She has perished. We will have to speed up our search. He will arrive soon, I can feel him approaching. His power is a beacon."_

_Morcen just stayed silent. The man turned around. He was a relatively small man, maybe 55 years old, with gray hair and deep, green eyes. He had a full beard and his hair looked as if he hadn't washed it in weeks, maybe months. It fell down on his forehead in thick strands. Worn brown leather boots protected his feet from the cold, just; and a plain brown robe fell across his exhausted body. Morcen shivered. He looked like a skeleton._

"_We shall leave these caves, and take a gamble. We will have to stay out of sight and out of the Masters' reach. If we cannot find this boy, we will have failed." He looked straight into the Jedi's eyes. "I do not need to remind you of the importance of this mission." He was almost whispering now. "And of the price of failure."_

_Morcen shuddered slightly. He nodded tightly. The consequences would be... grave. "Yes, Master Nercin."_

_The gray man left the cave, with Morcen in tow. They made their way through the maze of caves silently. After a tense time of scanning for threats and fighting off truculent vipers, there was light at the end of the tunnel. Morcen smiled. Light at the end of the tunnel, indeed._

**S**tatic filled the computer screens. Sash was working insanely at the controls now, but it was no use. The camera was destroyed. They had no idea of Master Antonel's status, the amount of enemies, or how much time they had left to leave.

Sash sighed and punched the keyboard in front of him out of frustration. He turned to Syn with an asking look on his face.

"We can't just leave," Syn said in a shaky voice. "You heard what he said. Leave if I'm dead. We don't know if he's dead."

Sash looked around warily. "I don't know, Syn. I've known Master Antonel for a very long time. I'm sure he can handle this, but... who knows how many there are, you know? I was ordered to take you to Dantooine. That was my assignment. And I'm taking you there. Now."

He took two steps forward. Syn backed off. "Just... wait, Sash. For a couple of minutes. I'll – I'll try to sense him."

Sash laughed harshly. Syn looked at him angrily. "I'm sorry, but you haven't received any training. How can you hope to detect another being, even if it is someone so powerful in the Force as Master Antonel?"

"Just let me try," Syn said. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He figured he'd just improvise. He tried to remember the layout of the ship, what the area around the exit ramp looked like. And then, he figured he'd just use his mind to find Master Antonel. He furrowed his brow and concentrated ever more intensely. He was looking for a smell, other than the two in this room. He was looking for anything, a breath, a movement, a thought. But he couldn't find anything.

"I can't find anything." Sash looked at him triumphantly. "But that doesn't mean anything. I know he'll come back. Trust me."

Sash pondered the situation for a moment. "I'll give it five minutes." He activated the timer on his wrist watch.

Syn sat down. He was surprised at finding himself attached to Master Antonel already. He was the only man that connected him to his earlier life. Syn felt he couldn't leave the past behind yet. Not completely. He needed to have some link to it still, and the Jedi was the closest thing he had to his home. Suddenly he felt very isolated. Was this what he wanted? To be trapped in a room on a starship in the middle of space while being besieged by various enemies? _If you can make it through the night, there's a brighter day_, he remembered his mother saying often. Empty words at the time, but for the moment, they brought him closure. He picked himself up and started pacing around the room. Sash was already doing the same, looking at his clock every five seconds.

Finally, his watch beeped. "It's time, we're going."

Syn looked around for something, _anything_, to buy himself more time. "Wait! I -"

"No, Syn. You've had your five minutes. We have to get out of here before they make their way past these damned blast doors." He made his way towards the east hallway and the small computer next to its blast door. Sash entered the correct key code on the adjoining keypad and the door opened. He smiled. "Come on." Syn, defeated, followed him. He looked around at the west blast door one last time, and was surprised to see that it was not totally uniform. He tapped Sash's shoulder and pointed towards the door. Sash turned around to inspect the door. His face paled immediately. "It's melting. They're," he backed away slowly; he looked like a ghost now. "They're breaking through! There's only one thing that can do that, and that's a – a lightsaber. They – oh my God, one of them has got the idea that the pure energy is strong enough to destroy it." He was mad with fear now, stumbling over a chair. "We have to go, Syn, we have to go," he shouted hysterically.

"Sash, wait! If it's a lightsaber, couldn't it be that -" Syn cried out.

Sash took him by his arm and dragged him across the room, the adrenalin rushing through his body giving him extra strength. "There's no time, there's no time!"

Syn, still looking at the blast door, noticed that parts were now falling down. He was impressed. Not much could stand the test of a ship's blast doors. He loosed himself from Sash's grip and looked at him. "What the hell are you doing? They'll kill you," he shouted. Syn turned around and slapped the ginger-haired man with his left hand. "Get a grip of yourself. Look at the door. It's a blue lightsaber. It's Master Antonel."

Sash felt his cheek with his right hand, gobsmacked by this young man's behaviour. Slapping a Republic soldier? He looked up at the door. The blue energy beam was indeed visible now. Even parts of Master Antonel's plain brown robes were showing now. Remarkably, he had calmed down as well. He looked at Syn's back. _I'll get you back for this, you brat,_ he thought. The hole in the blast door was now big enough for Master Antonel to climb through. He dusted off his robes and pulled his belt straight. Surprise, and then relief spread across his face when he looked up at the pair. He had obviously not expected to see them here still. "Go to the cockpit, Sash. The interdictor ship's tractor beam was offline from the moment their ship docked with ours'. We continue our journey immediately." After a moment's hesitation and under the severe face of the Jedi Master, Sash hurried to the cabin. A few seconds later, the ships' engines were being fired up, and they set off on their course again. Master Antonel picked up the chair over which Sash had fallen just a minute or so earlier, and sat down on it, strained from combat, and, Syn now saw, the gaping wound spreading across his entire left upper arm.

The remaining blast doors, including the half-destroyed one, opened again: Sash had accessed the central computer and entered his code. Master Antonel stood up. "I'm going to the dormitories, to heal myself, meditate and rest. I would... appreciate it were I left alone." Syn nodded vigorously. He had heard of the Jedi's combat exploits from his father's stories and his books. They were tense, physically and mentally exhausting affairs. Master Antonel looked tired as well, his eyes were glazed over and he was stooping a little bit. He smiled at the young man. "I guess we were right. You do have much potential if they're getting so desperate as to attack us openly." He didn't need to explain who _they _were. Syn knew all too well. He smiled back faintly and, with that, Master Antonel left the room and made his way towards the west dormitory.

**T**he next two days were pretty quiet. Syn didn't see Master Antonel often: the only times he'd come out of his room was to eat something or to check up on their progress. He was sporting a large bandage around his left upper arm now, but it didn't seem to be bothering him very much. Syn now slept in the east dormitory, the 'crew quarters', which didn't matter all that much. He also noticed that Sash had become much more distant since his slap in the face. Syn didn't care about it all too much. It was what needed to be done. The man had been raving.

As the _Prince Dragon _entered the Dantooine system on day three, Master Antonel came out of the west hallway, all ready to leave the starship as soon as possible. The bandage had disappeared now, and he was obviously itching to get back to solid ground. He looked at Syn interestedly, as if he had noticed something he hadn't before. "I estimate we're going to be landing within an hour. We will arrive at Khoonda Starport, and make our way through the supervisory headquarters towards the plains, and, from there, to the Academy itself. You will meet the other Masters there, and they will give you further instructions. I expect you will be thrust into action almost immediately."

Syn nodded silently as he looked to the blood stains in the west hallway area, still there after the battle. A shiver went through his body. It still haunted him, from time to time. He had suffered from a severe headache a few hours after Master Antonel's return: he had felt as if his head was splitting open, screams echoing within the walls of his mind. Even if he couldn't have felt the Master when they were separated, he felt... a change in him now, somehow. Something sinister. He couldn't place his finger on it, and he couldn't see or feel anything different around him, his attitude or his character; except some kind of a shadow, left behind at his every footstep, filling the ship with dark reverberances of malevolence.

He also couldn't figure out why he felt this dark energy. This Master had saved him two times now. He did feel comfortable around him, he gave him a feeling of security, but still... This was something else. It was as if a residue was still left from the battle, the darkness of the Sith clamping desperately to a strong Force user.

The bodies had been gone within hours; Syn had no idea where they had gone. He had no idea how many there had been, and he had no intention of asking Master Antonel about it. For now, he was focusing on the task at hand: making it through training, exterminating some Sith, and impressing the right people. He would like some peace and quiet; he was amazed every time he thought about his path up until now: it had only been three days, and he had gone through so much already. Maybe Dantooine wouldn't be so bad, for a couple of weeks, at most a couple of months: recharging his batteries, getting ready for a prominent role in the galaxy, and honing his skills to perfection.

He would go eat one last time on the ship: he didn't know when he'd have a chance again. He made his way towards the mess hall. He found Sash there, lost in thought over some not wholly tasteful-looking food. He was surprised to find him there: shouldn't he be preparing for landing?

As Syn reached the room, Sash looked up. An uncomfortable silence filled the room as Syn grabbed some food and sat on the bench facing the captain, at the same table. He felt Sash's gaze burning, so he looked at his food the whole time, not saying a word. After a moment which seemed to last far too long, the captain stood up and put his garbage into the bin. He then turned around and stealthed towards Syn, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and lifted him off the bench. He pulled him all the way to the nearest wall and pushed him up against it, his eyes ablaze with pure hate. "Listen to me, you little prick. _Nobody _tells me what to do. You made me look like a fool in front of Master Antonel. You better pray you turn out to be as good as they think you are, because I will murder you if I ever see you again." Syn swallowed, sweat rolling down his forehead. Sash released him, his face red, the muscles in his neck bulging from the aggression built up inside his body. He left the room.

Syn felt the back of his neck. As he did so, he collapsed to the ground, closing his eyes, his thoughts racing through his throat via his lungs towards his heart, where the spectre of hate stood proudly, ever growing. It blocked out everything else: there was a void and the flame. He couldn't hear anything anymore, just the sound of his heart pounding. And he saw the void, with the flame. Mocking him by its very presence. Goading him. Wanting him to give in.

Just like that, it was gone. He opened his eyes, and saw Master Antonel standing in front of him. He helped him up and guided him to the nearby east dormitory. "What happened?" he asked, worry present in all his features.

"I don't know," Syn said, panting, "Sash and I had a... disagreement, and all of a sudden, I blanked out."

The Master looked at him for a very long time. "Do you think I don't feel the hate within you, Syn? The ambition? Your passions? I have watched you. I have felt the struggle within you. You have much power, but... you are very fragile, almost borderline unbalanced. You need as much guidance as you can get. But the raw potential, the energy, is incredible." He looked at Syn intently. "I will discuss this with the other Council members." A smile spread across his face at seeing the disappointment on the young boy's face. "Don't worry. Jedi believe in walk and don't look back now. We've made our decision, and we're going to do everything in our power to help you follow our path. After all," and he lifted Syn's chin, "you have only just started your life. Master Vara will be very pleased to finally meet you. And Master Nercin, of course."

He left Syn, and made his way towards the Central Room, going over the possible scenarios in his head. Sash Andik was a threat to the boy's training now. He had felt the change in attitude towards his student, but as he watched him return from the mess hall just now, fury radiating from his very movements, the urge to slaughter the only thing on his mind, he had realized what had happened. His sense of honour, crippled after the incident with Syn, had made him a menace. As he sat down on one the chairs in the Map Room, he pondered the situation. There was only one possible outcome now.

**T**he ship made its way through the atmosphere towards Khoonda Spaceport, flying gracefully through Dantooine's peaceful air, a flock of Brith escorting them. The Spaceport was decent, nothing more: it had a couple of open-air docking areas, good for at least fifty middle-class ships. As a rustic planet's hangar area was never very busy, there was ample space to dock. Sash chose one of the docking points near the administrative headquarters of Khoonda. The _Prince Dragon _landed perfectly, the exit ramp touched the ground. Syn was relieved to finally leave behind the troubled time on the ship. He wanted to get away as far as he could from Sash, as well. If that was for his own or the captain's safety, he couldn't tell.

Master Antonel left the ship immediately, with Syn close by. Sash stayed on the ship, waiting for mechanics to repair any lasting damage from the interdictor ship's tractor beam, to refuel and to do some routine maintenance work.

They left the Spaceport; Syn didn't notice any docking authorities. He figured Jedi Masters enjoyed certain privileges. They went past small building above which a sign read 'Mechanics' and made their way towards the largest building in the vicinity. Master Antonel made his way past several pestering officials, who shut up as soon as they saw his face, into the building. It was a pleasant building, with the information office first, decorated with a couple of large, impressive trees; the incoming sunshine was giving it a friendly temperature and a delightful light: a bright orange glow seemed to emanate from the white-and-brown walls, made from sturdy material, obviously meant to last for a very long time. They went past the friendly information officer, into a room of petitioners, all wanting help from the government and in particular the administrator. They all had a look of extreme resignation on their face, although some still had the fight to complain to fellow queuers, who looked away impatiently as soon as someone spoke up. Master Antonel ignored their curses as he pushed his way through the crowd, up to the administrator's office, which was the central area in a large, U-shaped hallway, with stores and bureaus built into the wall. Within the empty central space of the 'U' was the office Master Antonel was looking for, a pretty large, comfortable-looking place, with two militia men guarding the present administrator and a Jedi at her side to back them up. She looked up from a datapad one of the soldiers was discussing with her as the Jedi Master entered the room, put it into the disgruntled recruit's hands, and approached them with a warm smile. She was an older woman, smaller than Syn, with hair graying at her temples and an otherwise brown coiffure held up with a silver diadem. She had a tattoo between her eyes, just above her nose: four brown points. Syn was unsure what they meant, but it gave her an authoritative air nevertheless. As the Jedi Master nodded to his comrade, he replied with a gracious bow. The administrator spoke up.

"Ah, Master Antonel. It's so very nice to see you again." She looked at Syn equally warmly. "And I see you've brought someone with you. New blood for the Academy, hm?"

"You could say that," the Jedi replied, in an absent-minded tone. "I need one of your speeders, Terena. We have no time to lose, and as much as I would love my student to explore the endless grassy plains of Dantooine, I would imagine he is eager to start his training as well."

She nodded. "Yes, of course. You know where to find them. Just remember to bring it back when you are done. Even though we've made great progress, we can't lose any material or men if we want to fulfill this planet's potential one day." Syn noticed a great deal of love for this planet in her eyes, but also tranquillity, one of the hallmarks of a good leader. He knew she was the right woman in the right place. With a bow, and Syn not knowing whether to copy him or not, Master Antonel left the office, Syn struggling to catch up with his quick pace. They left the office and took a left turn and then another one. At the end of the hall, Master Antonel opened one of the doors. They entered a garage, with speeders and all manner of screwdrivers, bolts, computers, spare parts and the like littered around the chamber. Master Antonel chose one of the speeders and motioned Syn to take the passenger's seat next to him; he pushed a few buttons on the speeder and the big garage door opened. Syn shielded his eyes from the glaring sunlight, Master Antonel started up the engine and, before Syn was adjusted to the sun, the Academy was already looming on the horizon. They were surrounded by green-brown plains, with docile iriaz all around, rock formations scattered about and some settlers wandering to and fro the enclave, calling on the advice of the Council on an important matter, no doubt. Syn grinned mischievously. These farmers wouldn't survive five days without proper leadership. They'd be at each other's throats, threatening to shoot each other over some malfunctioning moisture vaporator, or over ownership right over a stream flowing gently between two estates; they needed, like the plebs on every planet throughout the galaxy, the freedom and justice dispensed by those in charge; these leaders' commands, which gave them a goal, a meaning to their little lives. The smile widened. Yes, maybe it wouldn't be so bad here.

They reached the outer edges of the enclave: a bridge built over a pitiful rivulet, leading up to the concrete pavement of the exterior of the enclave; this was where settlers waited to see the Council, these magistrate-Jedis, to solve their trivial problems; and where the more outward-looking Jedi kept in touch with the Dantooine populace, getting information on current galactic events and what was going on in Khoonda itself. Master Antonel stopped the speeder and got out. Syn followed his example, and they made their way over the river and onto the enclave grounds. As they turned left past the awe-struck people, shocked at the sight of seeing one of the Academy's Masters outside, Syn felt elated: he would get his chance now. He wasn't going to miss it.

They reached the Academy's main entrance and Master Antonel went in. Syn didn't notice any keycards, no use of the Force. Maybe the door was open for all, but these settlers had enough sense not to go where they didn't belong... Syn followed closely.

As they reached one of the many round courtyards of the enclave grounds, with a large tree in its middle and four hallways around it, Master Antonel kept on walking. They made their way into the north-most hallway and finally reached their destination. The Council's chambers. A half-circle of seats was the most prominent thing about the room. The chamber was peaceful, with two trees behind the row of seats. Birds sat on its branches, twittering happily. Leaves fell lazily to the ground, and the ever-present sunlight fell beautifully into the circular room. Only one other person was present. A Twi'lek, meditating in front of the half-circle of dark-gray, large chairs, which looked like they hadn't seen much use. At all.

As Master Antonel and his protégé entered the room, he stood up. At the sight of his fellow Master, he nodded. At seeing Syn, his face was filled with delight. He almost ran to the young man, his hand reached out.

"Good day, Syn. What a pleasure it is to finally meet you. My name is Master Vara."


	6. The Other Side Of The Veil

_**Chapter 6: The Other Side Of The Veil**_

"You are now in the Council chambers. This is where Master Antonel, Master Nercin and myself deliberate, decide and evaluate. You will find us here often, should you need anything. I think that's it," Master Vara concluded.

Syn had just had an exhaustive tour of the complex, but he thought he had the gist of the set-up of the enclave. West, you had the landing-space for up to three ships, and a few merchants who had been thoroughly screened before admitted entrance; there was an Aratech merchant, plus a seller of droid parts and, opposite these two partners, a big Czerka store with everything which a spacer, explorer or fighter would like. The two Aratech partners didn't seem happy about the Czerka intrusion into their territory.

Further west, you had the gigantic library and the droid storage room, and, most importantly, the training room for honing your Force skills. A small room built into this training room was meant for meditation and thought to the world around you: it was meant for improving mental prowess.

A paved road went east into the main courtyard, where there were four paths north, east, south and west. South led up to the exit from the Academy. North, you had the Council chambers, the main training room and the gym, with weights, equipment and devices which mostly took care of the physical aspect of Jedi training.

East, finally, there was the big student dormitory and the guest wing. It was by far the biggest part of the academy. You also had the study rooms there, quiet and peaceful, for learning and reading.

Master Vara now smiled at Syn. He was a tall, green Twi'lek, who spoke an excellent Galactic Basic without a hint of dialect or difficulty. He wore the plain brown robes of any Jedi Master and the enlarged hilt of a double-bladed lightsaber was clipped to his dark green belt. He was a kind and gentle man, who seemed to love his students: he talked to every one of them they met along their exploration and seemed in a continual good mood. It was still early, so there hadn't been many students on the enclave paths, but Syn looked forward to meeting some of the more advanced ones: he wanted to learn as much as he possibly could. "If you have any questions, I will be glad to answer them," the Twi'lek Master said.

"Actually, I do. Where is Master Nercin?," Syn asked interestedly.

Master Vara's face seemed to sadden at that, and Syn suddenly wished he hadn't asked. "He... has been gone for a week now. We have reported him as missing and filed a report with the Khoonda administrator, but we have to realize and accept that the embryonic Khoonda police force isn't able to find him. We cannot feel him through the Force any longer; it's as if his presence is kept from us. We fear the worst." He looked at Master Antonel, who nodded tightly. "But if he is out there, if he is alive, we will find him and bring him back. I do not wish to see a Master of Rekef's power lost to us." He seemed lost in thought now. He suddenly turned to Syn, and he now had his perpetual smile on his face again. "But now, over to you, Syn. We will get you installed in your bed. You can meet your fellow students there and focus on beginning your training. Master Antonel will show you to your room, and then we will have to... discuss a great many things, Miron." The tall man stared at the Twi'lek and it seemed to take a moment before he understood what Master Vara was talking about. He had been awfully silent since the _Prince Dragon_ had reached the planet, Syn thought worriedly. He wondered if he would have a chance to talk to him in private again before he finalized his training. He felt a strong bond now with this Master, and hoped that they could work together again in the future. For now, though, the only thing he would do was join the microcosm of the other students and Padawan, and work and train until he dropped.

**A**s Syn reached the dormitories, he noticed that little clusters of students were now pointing and staring at him, whispering about this new companion. Syn hoped that it would be easier to fit in here than with the Selkath: he estimated that ninety-five percent of all students present here were human. Even so, new blood often had to be tested, according to ancient school principle, so he would have to be wary of his surroundings all the time and keep his cool.

Master Antonel had left him when they had reached the east hallway and had turned back to to Master Vara without saying a word. He worried about how the Jedi Master would report their time on Manaan and the starship: if certain details were left out or told out of a different view point, he would probably lose a lot of credit. The altercation with Sash, the emotional distress, even the testing on Manaan. Syn thought about the small twitch he had seen in Master Antonel's eye as he had read the results of the test. He wondered why this seemed so important to his inner conscious, why it kept reminding him of it. Maybe he should ask one of the two Masters about the test, but he didn't think he'd get many answers. Jedi were a rather secretive lot, to say the least.

He had reached his bed. It was a decent bed, in the middle of the large student bedroom. As he looked inside the locker next to his bed and pulled out the student uniforms which had been placed there before his arrival, he noticed a presence behind him. He spun around quickly and was suddenly looking into the curious eyes of a small, blonde-haired student. She had big, deep blue eyes; long, curly hair; a curved mouth with big lips; and a swan neck, just like Syn. She seemed about his own age, maybe a couple of months younger. She was beautiful. "Hi," she said, in a faint voice, embarassed that he had found out that she had been staring at him. _Quick, say something, before she thinks you're a lunatic_, Syn thought.

"Hello," he said, hurriedly.

She smiled. "You're new here?" she asked. She seemed genuinely interested. Syn brightened.

"Yeah, I just got here this morning. My name's Syn, by the way." He wondered about extending a hand to her, but didn't.

"I'm Aemi. I've been here for almost seven years now. So, where was your previous academy?" she questioned.

Now it was Syn's turn to be embarassed. "I, uh, I haven't had any Jedi training up until now. I was just picked up a couple of days ago on my homeworld, Manaan."

She looked at him, one eyebrow pulled up. She was obviously thinking he was pulling her leg. Syn swallowed. "No, I'm serious. It's... complicated. My father's a diplomat, you see, and the Republic diplomatic corp wanted me to join their ranks, but -," he stopped, looking at Aemi. "But I just realized that it's not really interesting," he said dryly.

Aemi chuckled. It made her face even prettier, Syn thought. "Well, Syn, if that's the case, I'm guessing you have a lot of catching up to do. Maybe we could spar sometime later," she asked, looking at Syn inquisitively. He simply nodded. He was certainly up for brushing up on his fighting techniques. On Manaan, dueling was one of the main aspects of the Ahto City Academy's physical education. He had practiced many times there with the Selkath, who were smaller, but faster and more flexible than most humans. He had to increase his own training a notch or two to keep up with the quick movements and unpredictable tactics of his classmates. He wasn't the best of the Academy, but he had been pretty good at it. He wanted to see how he would do against a Jedi, a real physical and mental battle. Not to mention get some advice on Force fighting techniques.

Syn snapped out of his thoughts, and looked at the girl again, standing in front of him. She was still smiling at him blushingly. "At any rate, it's a shame you've come at this time. All students are pretty mediocre right now. We don't have any promising prospects; I'm one of the best in the fighting ring, and I have to say I'm not that good. Better than most of the boys, though. Many of them are ashamed of losing to a girl in melee combat, but I guess I'm more manly than they are," she remarked. Syn laughed rather too loudly. He was extremely anxious.

Syn could've sworn she was looking at him sideways, almost seductively now, but maybe that was just his adolescent imagination. "If you've had some physical training before coming here, you won't improve a lot. The Masters don't want to fight us, either. It's like they don't want us to become better. Like they want us to reach a certain level, but want us to stagnate there and only take minuscule steps forward, " she continued. She was almost whispering now. "I'm almost ashamed to say it, but it's like they want us to become decent Jedi, but nothing more. Our strength has to be good, but not great. Sufficient, but not excellent."

Syn looked at her gravely. "Have you told any of the other students about this?"

She looked at him, amazed. "What, you crazy? Do you think I _want_ to be an outcast? If I say that, they'll say I'm arrogant, that I'm not as good as I think I am, that I should trust in the wisdom of the Masters, that I'm making progress every day." She looked wryly at Syn. "Maybe you could be decent opposition. Haven't lost since... oh, since Joler," she said respectfully.

"You say that as if I should know him," Syn asked intently.

"You don't?" she asked, surprised. "Joler Makran. He's one of the finest Jedi today. One of the most influential Coruscanti people, has even been assigned one of the delicate missions, on Skako. You know, the toxic Core World with the extremely aggressive species? Handled that, and now it's loyal to Coruscant once again. Was given a parade, a senior magistracy and then his own battalion of troops for a peacekeeping and rebuilding mission on Serocco. That's the last I've heard of him, and that was five months ago. He was three years older than me, but a brilliant leader here, among the students; here, he solved a serious quenker problem, drove the mercenaries from the face of the planet and installed a murder investigation unit in Khoonda." She looked as if she was talking about a god. "But he grew tired on this boring planet and went to finish his training in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant." She was broken off abruptly.

"And you would do well to emulate him, young one." Syn and Aemi jumped and turned to the bedroom's entrance. Master Antonel stood in the doorway. Aemi bowed courtly, and Syn followed suit grudgingly but quickly nevertheless. As he was coming towards them, Aemi mumbled something. "I don't like him. He acts as if he's got a lightsaber stuck up his ass." Syn had to stifle a laugh with all his might.

"Joler was a phenomenal Padawan, a true prodigy," the Jedi Master said, now standing impressively in front of Syn and his newfound friend. "But you have as much, if not more, talent, Syn. I'm sure of that. " Aemi turned and now faced Syn with a mischievous look on her face. Syn sighed mentally. Sparring wouldn't be so easy. "Syn, follow me to the Council chambers. We wish to speak to you."

Syn said his goodbyes to Aemi, who told him she would be in the training room until dusk, that's where he could find her. He told her he would be there, and with that, he and the Master left the room and made their way towards Master Vara.

"**G**ood, you have come," Master Vara said, pleased. "I trust you have found your bed?" Syn nodded. "Excellent. Now, we can start your training," he stated, not without a hint of excitement in his words. "Of course, for wielding a power that connects all living beings, you have to be physically prepared. We've looked through what records we could compile of you. It seems you have a good basis, but it can be improved. I'm giving you a schedule which you will do well to follow if you want to meet the high standards we set." Syn accepted the datapad and glanced at it. It seemed his days would be filled. He didn't mind. "Master Antonel here will be your teacher from now on; he has asked me personally and specifically and I do not see any harm in it. He has told me of a connection between you both. It _is_ strange it has formed in so short a time, but it may be beneficial all the same. It seems you have an avid fan in him. Be warned, though: he is not a man to be easily appeased. Aim high." Syn felt Master Antonel's gaze burning on his back, but tried not to think about it too much. He wouldn't show any weaknesses from now on. "As well, you will start with some general exercises, to get a feeling of the Force and your affinity to it. For someone of your natural skill, they may seem superfluous and annoying, but they are necessary nonetheless. We don't want you to burn up. Now, as the _Prince _didn't have any refreshers and you are an adolescent, it would seem wise to wash up first and begin your training afterwards. If you progress according to our expectations, you will have your first external assignment in no time."

Syn returned to the student bedroom, in which the refreshers were located, in a communal bathroom at the back, boys and girls separated. He got out of his clothes, folded them neatly and put them into his locker. With a towel across his waist, he hurried to the water and let the pleasant heat cascade down his body. He figured he would check out his schedule, do the exercises and then spar with Aemi. It seemed like an eternity since he had washed himself, though in fact it had only been three days. Manaan was very far away now, but, surprisingly, Syn didn't feel any regret in leaving the planet. Sure, there had been the protection of his parents, and... Karo. But he had a new family now, a family which would take care of him like his parents; and he would get his chance at greatness. He would be no mere diplomat, bowing to the wishes and whims of a decadent senatorial committee. He would not grovel at the feet of petty magistrates. He would be part of an elite force, respected and feared alike throughout the galaxy. Senators and magistrates would do well to answer to _him_. Jedi were judge and jury, they pulled the strings behind the scenes, they kept the galaxy together within the form of the Republic.

But did it matter if it was the Republic? Couldn't the Jedi just assume control from their Council on Coruscant, with self-control and self-evalution from within their own community? There were enough Academies spread throughout known space, with enough Councils and enough competent, wise guardians of the people's interests. People like Joler were what the galaxy needed, charismatic heroes who tended to its evolution and stability. Jedi they could look up to, shining paragons of justice and freedom who were like a beacon in dark times, who had saved the universe from plunging into darkness so many times. Who, most importantly, had the power of change.

The Republic had become a complacent and slow beast, devouring resources and time, subtly destroying a brittle galactic economy and a social network: after the Exile, the reformation and reinstating of the many committees and senators, they had had to make hard choices: funding had to be diverted to a thinned and vulnerable army and the rebuilding of the economy; many social priviliges were abolished and harsh laws were passed, much to the dismay of the common people; lands were seized brutally from hard-working peasants by officials to allot to war veterans; and shadowy types were now holding rewarding and important jobs within the political body, most notably the governorships of planets, during which they enriched themselves and extorted freely. There had even been a notorious law passed to cancel republican citizenship of certain planets, which meant that inhabitants of those planets had no political or social rights within the Republic's frame. Concretely, this led to chaos: dysfunctional dictators taking power on many of these worlds; whole populaces losing their right to vote on galaxy-wide laws; and a massive crisis in Republic economy because of the reluctance of traders to visit these hostile, dangerous and corrupt worlds, worlds which often had valuable resources and money. Inhumanely, it also stopped people from these planets to travel inside Republic space, which led to illegal, unsafe transports in which countless died (many stories of malfunctioning hyperdrives of shabby ships in the middle of nowhere had reached Manaan). And all this to stop the influx of refugees to Coruscant and other Core Worlds.

It was selfish and egotistical, despicable behaviour from a once noble empire. Syn was wholly convinced it needed change. Jedi could bring this about from within their own organisation: they had enough insight and long-term vision to pass strict, but good laws, for the plebs who formed the base of the galactic community; and they employed quality selection from the beginning in that only true potential, from all walks of life, was admitted to their ranks. There was always new blood, new ideas cropping up, not seduced by glittering credits or the fine houses or women, but reviewing, deducting and solving objectively. Change would come naturally.

One positive new position was that of 'tribune': two officials were chosen out of the pool ambitious, young, promising talent; one from the ancient aristocratic families, like the Ulgos or the Organas, families who had many members on many worlds; and one from the common people, exceptional talent which had been spotted within the grand network of Coruscanti officials and magistrates. They had the power to veto any and all laws passed by the senatorial committee, and thus formed an independent body. The harsh reality was that they had often been bribed excessively and therefore contributed nothing.

The new Republic was a fiasco. Syn firmly believed that the Jedi could make things right. They had to. Who else had the power to force and maintain such an overhaul? To stop the spreading rot? To halt the Sith as well, who had returned once again? There was only one possibility.

Syn turned off the shower, dried himself, returned to his bed and got dressed. He looked at the datapad which Master Vara had given him.It just said 'Tuesday – muscular improvement.' He figured he'd go to the gym, in the north part of the enclave, and do some weight lifting and running. He'd always feel slightly disappointed at himself if he didn't train for more than two days, so his ambition for the moment was to run and train himself into the ground and test his limits. As he dressed himself in the unassuming beige student robes and exited the student bedroom, went past the prominent tree in the central courtyard and up to the north hallway, he spotted Aemi in the left corner of his eye. She tried to catch up with him. "Jesus, man, I know you saw me. You don't have to run even faster. I won't bite," she grinned.

Syn laughed out loud. "Yeah, I'm sorry, I'm just so caught up in starting my training. I was on my way to the gym, actually, care to join me?"

Aemi shook her head. "No go, fly boy. I told you I'd be training my dueling and combat skills all day. So, do _you _care to join _me_?"

Syn thought about it for a while. He concluded that he'd have time later on today to start following the Council's routine, and he might as well start facing Jedi and get used to their ability if he was to avoid being the laughing stock of the Academy for the next month or so. He just nodded and followed her to the training grounds.

**H**e entered the dueling ring, a bit nervous about this confrontation. How good would she be? If she was the top student in terms of hand-to-hand, one-on-one combat, she'd be a tough opponent no matter what. She stepped to the center of the ring full of confidence, a swagger about her which Syn thought very attractive. "You ready?" She asked, her eyes glistening at the thought of testing new blood.

"Sure", he replied, and mayhem ensued.

He just got his practice blade up before she struck a critical blow to his chest. She had reached him so fast. He tried to keep up with her pace, with her movements, with her feet, tried to hear her breathing, if she was getting tired, if she had only just started. He tried to guess her next move, but she always surprised him, and he had extreme difficulties in just parrying her blows, dashing and accurate. He noticed a weakness, her obvious disadvantage in strength over a boy of the same age, but it didn't do him any good. She was winning, and he wouldn't be able to keep up with this for much longer. Finally, she jumped over him. As the ice cold tip of her blade at the back of his neck made his body shiver, he turned around.

"You think too much, Syn," she said, not sweating, not even panting. Syn's shirt was already soaked with sweat, he was breathing heavily, hands on his knees. "Just... feel the Force. It's what you're here for. Let it guide you, not control you. In battle, the Force is precognition. It's a wickedly useful edge, if you know how to use it appropriately. Don't think, act. If all you do is react, you'll be on the defensive and the only thing you can achieve is a draw. Jedi do not draw. Jedi win. We'll try again." She stepped to the center of the ring again. Syn was impressed. Not many people, let alone persons his age, could give that sort of speech and get through to him. He figured it wouldn't hurt to try.

As he concentrated, a drop of sweat entered his eye. He blinked once, and then again, and, suddenly, the world was black and white. The people and the world around him were black, just an empty void, devoid of any importance or utility. His target, his adversary, the only thing that mattered was Aemi, a ghostly white appearance in front of him. She seemed worried, even distraught about being here. Syn was comfortable, even if he hadn't seen this place before. It was like he belonged here, this simple world of black and white. No problems, no nuances, no diplomacy. Just importance and surplus. He felt his blade burning in his hand, an ethereal, searing red bringer of destruction, there for him to use. It was so simple.

He looked at the palms of his hands. Bright golden, as was the rest of his body. A brilliant royal colour, almost unbearable to the eye. He shone like a halcyon star. He closed his eyes. There was no emotion, there were no passions. There was no spectre, not even a void. There was the Force. A small purple sphere inside his mind, with straight arms stretching out into eternity, into all living things. It was what held everything together. It was faint, but it was there. He could only see the sphere and the edges of the arms, barely. He couldn't see where these arms, these roads, led, and they weren't there when he opened his eyes in this strange reality, but he had learned much already.

He approached Aemi, and as he looked into her eyes, they caught flame. They were now burning intensely, and she was too amazed to do anything about it. He dropped the blade and extended his left arm gently into her chest. He found much. Love, fear, anger, desires, dreams, hope; skill and intelligence. Unhappiness was radiating out of her, her feelings shrouding her form in a cloak of negativity. He wanted to help her. He twisted his hand, still inside her spiritual presence, and he gasped. All air was brutally pulled out of his lungs, an unknown strength sucking it from his body. It was too much, too soon. He wasn't ready. As he fell back, this world shimmered in front of his eyes, and he snapped back into the real world.

After a moment's catching up, he realized he was back in the training circle. Aemi was in front of him, eyes rolled back in her eye sockets, cuts and marks across her face, writhing on the ground, twisting and turning, as if something evil was sinuating inside of her. Her chest was unhealthily rapidly going up and down, adding to the perception that she was dying sickeningly painfully.

One of the younger students, maybe eleven or twelve years old up, stepped up to him. He was a lanky, black-haired boy. "What the hell happened, man?"

"I don't know," he whispered.

"What do you mean, you don't know? You were training with her, weren't you? And then you just both stopped moving, stopped breathing, stopped blinking, as if you were someplace else. What the hell happened?" he repeated.

Syn turned to face the boy now. "I do not know, child," he hissed contemptuously. He didn't feel that well, and left all courtesy aside. "Go get a Master, she needs help."

"Hey, dude, you can't tell me what to do. What do you think, just because the word is you're some kind of special talent you can boss me around?"

Syn was coughing harshly now.

The boy looked at him worriedly. "Hey... man, if it upsets you so much, I'll just get Master Vara. Don't die on me."

He was coughing violently now, and held his hands to his mouth. As something came loose in his chest area, he looked at his hands. They were full of blood.

The boy looked as if he was going to faint. "Oh my God..."

"Go get a Master," he said in a whisper, distracted by this unusual set of circumstances. The boy was already gone.


End file.
